


your glow (against the burning embers of my fiery soul)

by abigaylefayth



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, RIP, Slow Burn, i honestly forget how to tag ao3 fics, lots of banter, past winnie/gil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigaylefayth/pseuds/abigaylefayth
Summary: “Do we have a deal then?”She seemed to think on it a moment, face unreadable.“Okay,”  she said finally, “Okay.” Then quietly, under her breath, “God help me.”He flashed her a sideways grin, dimples peaking out to say hello, “Alright, Carrots. This time tomorrow, we’ll be an official couple.”Her face soured, blue eyes darkening. Him and that damned nickname...“I hate you.”The laugh that escaped him was breathy, but genuine “I know you do.”ORthe enemies to lovers fake dating shirbert au nobody asked for
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 93
Kudos: 390





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, quick disclaimer: the means in which anne and gilbert come together are vaguely reminiscent of the to all the boys book, but the storyline diverges completely from it. so it's not a tatbilb au
> 
> also!! quick thanks to the loves of my life beedee (@peter-stank) and ella (lila-bard) (both on tumblr) for being so supportive!! had i not been continuously sipping that sweet validation juice from them while i was writing this first chapter, it might never have been posted. love you guys!
> 
> thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoy xx

“I think I’d have to disagree.”

The moment the words left Gilbert Blythe’s mouth, Anne’s jaw clenched tightly and her head jerked in his direction. His twinkling gaze met the jagged shards of her own. She’d just been in the midst of her very well thought out, very _thought provoking_ , analysis of Jane Eyre and of _course_ , a certain unrelentingly impossible someone had to interrupt.

Scattered groans emanated through out the room, making it obvious how excited their fellow classmate’s were to be in the presence of yet another ferocious debate between the two of them. Self-proclaimed academic rivals. Sworn enemies, were official title left up to the decision of one Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

Miss Stacey, their A.P. literature teacher, looked on from the front of the class silently. Waiting.

“Is that so?” Anne seethed through ground teeth, “Do explain.”

A smug grin found a home on Gilbert’s handsome face. His dark curls overflowing onto his forehead and casting a dark looking shadow on his eyes. The amused twinkle Anne found there caused her blood to boil beneath her skin.

“Well. I actually don’t think Rochester deserved forgiveness.”

Anne snorted indignantly and crossed her freckled arms across her chest. She opened her mouth to retort, “How-“

“Anne,” Miss Stacey’s lyrical voice cut in, “Let Gilbert speak. His point of view is just as important as yours.”

She huffed as she sat back in her chair. She unwound her arms to lay on her desk in front of her. Finger tapping restlessly among the scattered papers.

“Please,” this time it was directed at the infuriating boy a few desks over, “Continue.”

Anne refused to look in his direction, though she was positive his line of vision was settled directly on her. As it always was. Endlessly cheeky. Endlessly amused. Endlessly _aggravating_.

It always began like that. From the moment she first met Gilbert Blythe, he’d found a way to contradict her. Tease her. Provoke her. Set her skin aflame under the unwavering gaze of his hazel eyes.

In fact, it had been that very gaze – paired with that of the ever derogatory and uncreative nickname he’d chosen to bestow upon her (Carrots? _Really?) –_ that caused her to hit him across his face with her algebra textbook their freshman year. Nearly three and a half years and a very intense development of loathing later, things had clearly not changed for the better. Tied for top of the senior class and a viable threat to her title of valedictorian, it was safe to say that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert hated Gilbert Blythe’s guts.

There was a palpable shift in the classroom’s mood as everyone quieted. Apparently, Shirley-Blythe debates had become well known in Avonlea High. And they’d always proven to be quite entertaining.

“I mean,” Gilbert began in his deep baritone, “It should come as no surprise that Rochester was definitely anything _but_ an upstanding person.”

Anne bit her lip to keep from bursting with her argument.

“The development he went through near the end just seemed rushed. And… Anticlimactic. Would you disagree that, had Jane ended the novel as an independent maiden, it would have held a bigger impact?”

There it was. The question to draw her into an argument. One that, while directed to the general class, Gilbert _knew_ would corral her into the fighting ring opposite him. And it worked. Every time.

Anne ceased the incessant glare on her hands on the desk in front of her and swiveled in her chair. The gaze she met was one of genuine curiosity. But she was smart enough to know what lay beneath. _Asshole._

“I think you’re missing the point. The novel in itself is a nineteenth century equivalent of our modern coming-of-age stories. Jane marrying Mr. Rochester in no way undermines her self-worth. The fact that she was able to tame his roguish personality through passion and through love… it empowers her. Allows readers to realize her strength. And the strength that love can allow somebody to obtain.”

Anne crossed her arms. A satisfied smirk settling on her lips when Gilbert paused a moment to contemplate a response.

“So then would that not imply that she exists merely for the character development of a man?”

Anne guffawed at that, face reddening with anger. “I- You- Of _course_ not. I would _say_ that a woman’s independence isn’t based on if she decides to marry or not. You can fall in love and still be independent. One does not negate the other.”

Her voice was rising with every word she spoke. But Gilbert’s gaze did not waver. Even under the fiery scrutiny of her own. He merely smiled calmly, a twinkling and mischievous glint in his eye. The students around them watched in earnest, whispering among themselves.

“A good point,” he returned, “But I still feel like she was in too vulnerable a situation for her marriage to Rochester be solely based on love.”

“And how’s that?” Anne snapped.

“Well. She was pretty determined to find a place to call a true home,” He began to tick points off on his fingers, “Orphaned as a child. Left to an emotionally and physically abusive home. Placed in a horrible and overly religious school…” He met her gaze again, not backing down. _Never_ backing down. “I think her view on love and acceptance may turn out to be a bit skewed. Leading her into a marriage with an unworthy man.”

Anne bristled; sure her face was the becoming the same flaming red as the hair on her head.

“Being an orphan would not _skew_ someone’s perception of love, Gilbert Blythe,” she all but bellowed. She couldn’t help herself. He’d struck a chord in her that she hadn’t entirely been aware existed. And so, the note rung true. Laced with bottled up rage and bringing forth the murmuring of their classmates. Miss Stacey looked to be on the verge of intervening – ever the mediator when their academic debates turned downright rapturous – so Anne barreled on. Determined to get a last word out.

She took a shaky, angered, breath, “Growing up an orphan – growing up unloved – doesn’t make you _weak_. Or mean you have trouble grasping the concept of love.”

Gilbert’s eyes widened minutely, and then his eyebrows knit together. A sad realization dawning on him like a dark storm cloud. But Anne refused to back down in the face of his pity.

So maybe she was able to relate to Jane Eyre more than most. Maybe she was pushed from foster home to foster home for the majority of her life. But she was _not_ incapable of feeling love. Genuine, all-encompassing love. Matthew and Marilla had proven just as much. Diana, kindred Diana, had _proven just as much._

Many times had it been brought to her attention that Gilbert himself was an orphan. Many times had she forced herself to bite her tongue if only in respect of the late John Blythe’s passing. The very one that had allowed her to soften her heart ever so slightly, reaching condolences across the vast chasm that was the lack of any friendly familiarity between Gilbert and herself.

But even so, even after witnessing Gilbert flee in the face of his pain the entirety of that summer following their freshman year, Anne knew he would never truly understand the woe of being orphaned. Not on the same level as her. Not when their upbringing varied so wildly.

And she loathed to know that he pitied her for it. That he would never bite back just as hard as she did during their frequent arguments. So she glowered in the face of his unwarranted concern. Daring him to apologize. To insinuate she was weak.

But if there was one thing she’d learned about Gilbert Blythe in the three and a half odd years of knowing him, it was that he always took her dares to heart. And that he would return them tenfold.

Anne’s nostrils flared in her fury as he opened his mouth to apologize…

Only to be cut short suddenly by the sound of a resounding clap. As if a trance had been lifted on the room, everybody shifted in their seats to face Miss Stacey. She stood behind her desk, fists on her hips. No doubt she’d felt the change of air between Anne and Gilbert as the conversation had become a little less classroom appropriate.

“Alright you two,” she said, glancing between them, “While I love the enthusiasm in your academic endeavors, I would thank you to draw a line between classroom debates and unproductive arguments.” She swiveled her head to gaze out across the see of students in front of her, “Now, if you all would please pull out your journals from last night’s reading of _A Rose for Emily_ …”

Miss Stacey’s words faded as Anne shot one last withering glance in Gilbert’s direction. Then she turned forward in her seat and promptly returned her attention to the schoolwork in front of her. She could feel his eyes linger on her like cold hands tickling at the back of her neck. And finally, out of the peripheral of her vision, she saw him face forward as well.

It had become a routine; their arguments. Being the top students meant being in advanced classes. Being in advanced classes meant sharing nearly every class together. And sharing classes together meant… Well, it meant there were too many hours in the day in which Gilbert could piss her off. And he always did. Most obligingly.

For the entirety of her high school career, Anne had found an enemy in Gilbert Blythe. Since first moving to Avonlea at the age of fourteen, He’d proven to be as infuriating as they came. For every observation she’d make, he’d have a contradiction ready to fire at her. Word play that would insure her blood boil. And an annoying charm that would set her nerve endings on fire. The icing on top? He was handsome. _And he knew it._

He was every part the arrogant, know-it-all, golden boy. One who teased her relentlessly. Who challenged her every word. All with an amused smirk and ridiculous knowing glint in his eye.

Anne had stopped counting the amount of times her hands itched for another large textbook. One to smack the stupidly handsome smile right off of his smug face.

As Miss Stacey wondered around the classroom marking grades in her gradebook, Anne grit her teeth. A week into senior year and the cad had already dug his way under her skin.

She’d quite enjoyed her summer reading assignment of Jane Eyre. Even looked forward to the analysis paper that had been assigned the first day back from summer break. Gilbert had the audacity to question Charlotte Bronte’s writing? It was laughable, really.

She shook her head once. Fiercely. She refused to let Gilbert Blythe best her this year. Refused to let him get to her the way he had an uncanny way of doing. It was going to be _her_ year. She would win valedictorian and she would laugh in his smug face.

Anne smirked to herself, quietly basking in her own promise.

It was going to be a good year. She could promise herself that much.

\+ + +

“I swear to the Snow Queen herself, Di. It’s as if he _lives_ to get under my skin,” Anne huffed as she closed the passenger side door to her best friend’s car.

The school day had finished and they’d just arrived in the driveway of Diana’s elaborately landscaped home. Ever since Diana was gifted a car over the summer, she’d been Anne’s main source of transportation. though she loathed to have to rely on Diana’s wealth, she had little else available to her when it came to rides. She certainly didn’t have the means to fund her own vehicle… And because her adoptive parents, Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, only shared one car, she thought it best to take Diana’s offer.

Especially when the mere thought of public transportation made her cringe inwardly.

Diana gave an airy giggle, pulling her bag from the backseat and shooting Anne a knowing look. “I’m sure Gilbert has larger dreams in life than to make you hate him,” she said.

Then she closed the car door and hit the button on her key to lock it. And they made their way up the cobblestoned walkway that lead to the front of the house.

“He has an odd way of showing it.” Anne mumbled as she watched her friend unlock the front door. They stepped in, greeted by a rush of cooled air from the air conditioner. A true solace compared to the scorching heat of Avonlea, Maine’s summer months.

Her friend only gave her the smallest of eye rolls and a knowing smile as she set her keys onto the table just inside the door. After three years of hearing all about Anne’s fervent hatred toward one particular curly haired boy, she most assuredly knew there was no point in arguing.

Diana called out their arrival to Mrs. Barry – where ever she was in the massive house - and they began to ascend the wooden staircase that led toward her bedroom.

Anne always envied the Barry’s household, though she would never admit it aloud. The expansive floorplan left an immense scope for the imagination. Beautiful arched ceilings and delicate rails that lead all the way up the stairs and to the second floor. She always felt as though she stepped into another world. As if she were a victorian-aged princess. Skirts swishing at her ankles and lily-maids hurrying at her every need.

That wasn’t to say that her own home wasn’t beautiful. It too held expansive fields and beautiful greenery. It was just... a lot less extravagant. Simple. Single storied and green gabled. (That was what they referred to the house as in fact. Her beloved Green Gables.) Marilla was one for sound logic. She didn’t see necessity in frilled decorum or flourished vegetation along windowsills. No matter how much a fourteen-year-old Anne had poked and prodded about being able to garden along the house, Marilla only tsked and swatted her on. Claiming that gardening would only trail dirt on her polished wood floors.

Nearing eighteen and entering her senior year of high school now, Anne knew better than to push Marilla on topics she was most adamantly against. The woman was as stubborn and abrasive as they came. But Anne would be lying if she said she didn’t love her dearly.

The day the Cuthbert siblings had swept her up from the foster system and placed her in their home was one of the best days of her entire life. They’d saved her, truly. Even if they hadn’t realized it at the time.

Diana’s bedroom was lit dimly by the fairy lights fashioned against the walls. When they pushed the door open further and walked in, Anne couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto her lips.

“I told you they’d look good,” she sighed dreamily. It had been her idea for Diana to put them up. After finding them at the thrift store, she knew all too well what Marilla’s reaction would have been had she suggested she put them on her own wall.

And honestly, good wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the way they twinkled brightly in the darkness. They looked positively whimsical. If only Marilla would allow Anne to lavish her walls the way she truly wanted. Entering her room would be like being transported into a fairytale were it up to her.

She supposed living vicariously through her best friend would have to suffice.

“Ruby came over and helped me put them up last night,” said Diana. She’d flounced backward onto her bed and was staring up at the lights hung on the wall directly above.

Anne laid beside her, giggling softly to herself as she nestled her own head in the crook of Diana’s neck. It really would have been a funny sight to witness Ruby’s tiny frame balancing precariously on a teetering step stool as she attempted to reach heights far above her head. The Barry’s ceilings were anything but low.

“And how’d that go?” Anne inquired of her raven-haired friend.

There was a short laugh, “Just as you’d imagine. She gave up about five minutes in and I had to grab my dad from his study.”

Anne snorted. Mr. Barry hated being pulled away from his work. No doubt he’d made a big fuss of the situation.

She wiggled onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her head as she took in the side profile of Diana in front of her.

If you compared the two girls, you wouldn’t for a second even think that they might be the best of friends. They were different in every way possible. Diana had the most delicate of rounded noses and the prettiest of plush lips. Her hair was long and beautiful. Raven black. She was short and curvy in all the right places. Everything Anne wished herself to be.

Instead she’d been stuck in the gangly, skinny thing she called a body. Cursed with vibrant red hair and freckles that spattered everywhere.

Of course, it had been worse when she was younger and had just begun blossoming into adulthood. A mouth full of braces, a very evident lack of figure, and hair always paired off into two braids... she’d always hated looking at herself in mirrors. She’d appeared every part the homely orphaned foster-kid.

But by now, living with a loving family and very much not the child she once was, she was grateful to say her scrawny stature had filled out some. Her braces were gone. And she actually knew how to style her hair.

But it had never staunched her self-consciousness whenever she found herself compared to that of Diana Barry. She would always encompass everything Anne wished she were. Beautiful. Brilliant. Kind.

Whenever she brought it up - because of course Anne insisted on smothering her bosom friend with compliments - Diana would flush slightly. Politely thank her. And then tell her exactly what made her envious of Anne.

Still, to that day, after three years of the closest friendship, Anne found herself confounded to silence every time Diana complimented her on her “ _quiet beauty_ ”. On how she yearned to have Anne’s tenacity. Her vibrant and colorful mind.

Diana swiveled her head to face Anne, and they were so close their noses nearly touched. A small smile played on her lips, “What are you staring at me for?” she asked.

“Just thinking about how beautiful my best friend is,” she said, mirroring Diana’s smile.

The girl’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly, “Flirt.”

Anne rolled over and flopped onto her stomach, dramatically burying her face into her arms, “Oh you’ve caught me!”

She felt a poke in her side, “Speaking of flirts...”

Anne lifted her head, peaking an eye over the curve of her arm to glance over and find Diana worrying at her bottom lip. This couldn’t be good.

She groaned and buried her head back into the darkness of her crossed arms, “Don’t.”

“Royal is coming by this afternoon.”

Anne jumped up and into a sitting position, “I said don’t!”

Royal Gardner, Diana’s cousin, had become something of a massive thorn in Anne’s side. After he’d transferred to Avonlea over the summer, he’d been relentless in his endeavors to impress her. Constantly mooning over her like some love-sick puppy, and unyielding in his attempts to flirt.

It was pathetic.

Ignoring her friends pointed look, she frowned.

“I change my mind,” she said, “I don’t want to stay for dinner.”

A surprised laugh burst from Diana, and she sat up to match Anne’s position, “Too late. I need you here for emotional support. You know how my parents get when we have family over.”

“You mean to tell me you’re going to force me to interact with your absolute _miscreant_ of a cousin all night after I already spent my entire afternoon dealing with Gilbert Blythe?”

Diana snorted, “First of all, _‘miscreant’?_ Who even uses words like that anymore?”

Anne opened her mouth to retort but snapped it back shut when her friend held up her hand to silence her.

“Second of all, he’s not that bad! He flirts with you, so what? You’re cute! Would it kill you to have any type of interaction with the male species that wasn’t _negative_?”

Anne pursed her lips, “I speak to Cole just fine.”

Diana narrowed her eyes at her, “Cole doesn’t count and you know it.”

“Jerry?” He was a soft spot for Diana, and she hated to bring him up around her given their… _history_ … but Anne only wanted to provide a point in her argument.

Her friend hesitated at his name only a moment before continuing, “Anne do you not remember how nasty you were to Jerry when you first met him?”

“I... touché.”

She slumped back amongst Diana’s fluffy pillows and huffed a strand of red hair from her face. She was right. Damn her.

“Say it.” Diana urged, tone laced with unabashed self-satisfaction.

“No.”

“Saaayyy it.”

“No!”

There was a brief silence, and Anne glanced over to find Diana’s beautiful face contorted into an overdramatic pout.

She sighed loudly, “Fine! You’re right! Maybe I’m a little... unnecessarily _mean_... to boys. But it’s not like I ever had the best encounters with them growing up!”

Without warrant, her mind retreated momentarily to the days when she was pushed from foster home to foster home. Man handled and groped when she didn’t want it. Teased relentlessly and called ugly.

Her face soured and she pinched herself in an attempt to bring herself back to the present. When she looked at Diana, she found an apologetic expression.

“I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, Di. That was a long time ago. And you’re right. I should be able to conduct myself in a pleasant enough manner around guys.”

Diana cocked her head, “Okay but what about Gil-“

“You’re pushing it, lady.”

Her dark hair shook as she laughed then, “One of these days you’ll realize how he looks at you.”

Anne scrunched her nose, “What, with complete disgust?”

“No. Like he sees you and... and he can’t get enough of it.”

Anne faked a gag, “Diana Barry you did not just say that.”

Her friend only smiled widely.

“How incredibly repulsing.”

“Oh, shut your pretty little red head up! Don’t act like you don’t feel the tension between you two every time you get into one of your little debates. It’s been the same way for three years!”

Anne guffawed, “I’m sorry the only tension there is between us is that of me not trying to _strangle the life out of him._ ”

“Kinky.”

“Diana!” Anne screeched. But when the other girl only burst into a fit of laughter, she felt the giddiness of the joke bubble up in her own chest. And soon they were both giggling like little girls, not the seventeen-year-old young women they actually were.

“You- Gilbert hates me!” Anne said, trying to find it within herself to catch her breath.

“Yeah he hates to love you,” the dark haired girl wiped at her reddened face, “I bet when you yell at him it gets him so hot and bothered-“

“Diana!” Anne shrieked once more. Her friend nearly collapsed off of the bed with the might of her laughter.

“What? I’m just saying! Maybe that’s why he loves to egg you on.”

The uproarious laughter took hold of them again and they flailed clumsily against one another. Anne desperately grabbed for Diana’s arm, the two of them in an absolute fit.

A sharp knock at the bedroom door cut them off abruptly. They glanced at it, the last of their giggles dying down.

“Diana dear,” came the posh English lilt of Mrs. Barry, “Your aunt and uncle will be here within the hour. Why don’t you two come on down and help set up the kitchen table.”

The two girls glanced at one another, displaying identical eye rolls. It wasn’t as if the Barry’s were lacking in help. They were one of the wealthiest families in town (yet another massive difference between Anne and her beloved kindred). So much so that there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that they’d hired a chef for dinner.

But whatever kept Diana humble, she supposed was the Barry’s thought behind it. As if Diana could ever be anything but.

“We’ll be right down Mother!” Diana called back. And it must have sufficed because the shadow disappeared below the door.

It always baffled Anne. To see the Barry household conducted in such a civilized manner. Incredibly reminiscent of the older rules society believed proper. She supposed it was the British blood that they’d brought across the ocean with them when they moved to America clear back before Diana was even born.

Though Maine was an oddly rural place to settle when it came to their business and the likes of a being connected socially to other wealthy families.

Then again. It wasn’t her business. And she would never act like she’d understand the logistics of running whatever it was that they upheld. Or even the sophisticated esteem in which they held themselves.

Perhaps that was what convinced Diana’s distant relatives to move themselves to America as well. Or maybe Mrs. Barry just complained so much of how bored she was of country life that Mr. Barry offered a high sum of his income to his British counterpart and brother were he to move his family to Avonlea alongside them.

Whatever it was, it annoyed Anne to no end. Had they not decided to move to America, she wouldn’t have to suffer through the lyrical and incredibly pompous poetry readings of one Royal Gardner. Or look him in his pretty face and pretend not to be repulsed by his very forward flirtations.

“Come on then,” said Diana as she hopped off of her bed. She grabbed Anne’s hand in hers and yanked her up, “let’s go _set the table_.”

She’d said the last part in a jarringly accurate reiteration of her mother’s accent and Anne had to smother a laugh.

Whatever blood ran in the Barry’s had to have been directed elsewhere when they gave birth to their daughter. Because her best friend of three and a half years was certainly nothing like them. And for that, Anne was grateful.

\+ + +

The Barry’s back garden had always made for an exceptionally beautiful site during the evening sunset. Anne was so thoroughly enthralled by its wonders - enraptured by the chirping of the crickets, the beauty of the flowers as the swayed in the evening breeze, and the song of the birds as they cooed among the trees - that she hadn’t realized Royal had sidled up next to her. And it wasn’t until he eased himself down onto the concrete bench beside her, that she even noticed he’d appeared.

She jumped a fraction, momentarily thrown by the sudden nearness of him. Overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. And entirely uncomfortable with the leg he’d eased flush against hers.

She jerked to the side, creating a decent amount of space between them, and scowled deeply.

He’d been at it all night. Relentlessly. Annoyingly. Opting to sit directly beside her at the dinner table. Stealing unwanted glances in her direction. And even going so far as to flirting wantonly in front of the entire table.

Anne had had enough of Royal Gardner for the night. Which was why she’d stolen a silent moment in the garden. Sitting amongst the flowers and listening to the beautiful song of nature. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Anne to do such, so she hadn’t expected any visitors. Not from Diana or her parents or her little sister...

If only she’d realized how relentless Royal would be.

“Why’ve you run away from me, Anne?” he said, words tucked into a posh English accent. If Anne hadn’t known what a pig-headed cad he was, she might’ve found his melodious voice intriguing.

She was growing incredibly tired of his game. And he was making it obvious just how oblivious he was to her discomfort. Either that, or he didn’t care.

“I’m just... not in the mood, Roy.” Anne said, attempting to maintain an air of maturity. She noticed him moving toward her once again, so she stood from the bench and clenched her fists at her sides.

“Oh, bullocks. Let’s have some fun.” He stood gracefully, his lithe frame taking up too much space in front of her. It took all of her strength not to jerk away. Or to _backhand_ him across his face.

So she merely turned around and began to walk slowly down the stone path. Counting her breaths with every step she took.

Anne knew a precarious situation when she saw one. Had lived through far too many of them. She wasn’t sure if Royal himself had any ill intentions, but he was certainly the type of boy who’d never been told no. And in Anne’s experience, those were always the most dangerous ones.

He followed closely behind her.

“Anne,” he said politely. Too politely. “I was wondering if maybe you might consider... grabbing tea- er, _coffee_ with me. Sometime.”

Anne stopped in her tracks. Turned around to face him slowly. It was the first he had ever actually asked her straight up to do anything with him. Up until that point it had only been incessant and bothersome flirting.

She cocked her head, gauging what the best reaction would be. Certainly he wasn’t dumb enough to not realize she was completely uninterested.

She loosed an airy breath, “I’m sorry, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

His dark brows pinched together in confusion. Yep. He was definitely not used to being told no.

“I’m not sure why,” he said frustratedly.

Anne clenched her jaw. Not the reaction she was hoping for. Because now he was going to make everything incredibly difficult.

“I’m not interested, Roy,” she said through ground teeth. She glanced back at the house, wondering if she would be able to make a break for it. If she could run around and past him in order to avoid the abhorrent situation at hand.

“Why not?”

 _Why not?_ Was he serious? Could he not just take no for an answer?

“I’m just- not. Okay?” it took all of her self-control not to snap it at him.

She begun to move sideways in an attempt to skirt around him toward the house, but as she did so, she felt his hand encircle her wrist. She froze.

Oh, Diana was so wrong. He was totally, full-heartedly, _one hundred and fifty percent_ a miscreant.

“Let me go.” Her voice was like ice.

He didn’t.

“That’s not a good enough answer,” he said.

She turned back around to face him, expression as neutral as she could stomach, and placed her other hand on the one he encircled around her wrist. Slowly, she extricated herself from his grasp.

“I don’t care.”

She turned toward the house again. Began to walk. But he was persistent.

“Anne what’s the-“

“I have a boyfriend!” she snapped. It caused his eyes to widen. A facial expression that she was more than likely sporting herself. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to claim such a thing. She most assuredly did _not_ have a boyfriend...

Maybe it was the fact that she knew he would keep prying until he got what he wanted. That he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Or _maybe_ it was the fact that she knew he was the exact type of guy that would only back down at the discretion of another male.

_Misogynistic prick._

It had worked, nonetheless. He backed off from her a step, though his eyes showed skepticism.

“You do?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“What’s his name?”

She blinked. Surely he had not just asked that. “Huh?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “I said ‘what’s his name’?”

“I don’t have to-“

“Anne!”

At the sound of Diana’s voice, Anne jerked around in the direction it came. her friend stood just outside of the back door, an apologetic look written all over her face.

The relief that flooded through Anne was as palpable as a wave crashing against a shore. With one last withering glance in Royal’s direction, she jogged up to Diana and through the back door. Blatantly ignoring the lingering presence of the boy she left outside.

“Don’t ever leave my side while he’s here again,” she hissed.

Diana laughed, but clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw Anne’s unamused expression.

“That bad, huh?”

Anne wiped a hand over her face, “Worse. He asked me out.”

“ _What?”_

She tugged her friend toward the front hallway as she sushed her, “Let’s go up to your room. I’ll tell you what happened.”

Diana’s face grew wary, “Why am I getting a bad feeling about this?”

Anne rolled her eyes as she pulled Diana up the stairs behind her. Girls told guys they had boyfriends all the time when they got unwanted attention. It wasn’t as though she’d dug herself a grave under the guise of being with another person. She’d merely attempted to put an end to Roy’s pursuit.

Whether the attempt was successful was an entirely different question in itself. But surely it didn’t matter. _Surely_ , Royal Gardner would take the hint and back off. Leave her alone when she so obviously wanted nothing more to do with him.

Right?

\+ + +

The scorching heat of August pushed down heavily on Anne’s shoulders as she sat outside of her favorite coffee shop the next afternoon. The patterned iron table she sat at was hot beneath her skin. And her schoolwork fluttered in the warm breeze.

It fazed her none.

Anne quite enjoyed basking in the summer air while the season actually lasted. Over the years she’d learned that winter hit quickly and fiercely, destroying nature in it’s path as it wrapped its cold clutches around the town.

Though she did so fiercely admire her childhood imaginary friend the Snow Queen, she found the limited months in which she was able to laze outside and complete her studies within summer’s warm hug quite exhilarating. So she was determined to make the best of every moment of it. Even if the iced coffee she’d ordered had perspired onto some of her school papers.

Thank they heavens it was only her calculus homework, lest she’d grown distraught to find her analysis journal ruined and smudged.

She’d been at work for hours, having finished her journal entry for Miss Stacey whilst the sun was still high in the sky and the shadow from the quaint blossom tree planted right outside the shop had still been shading her from its harsh rays. Anne did so enjoy walking the mile from the high school into town so that she could complete her homework at Red Bird. The coffee house she’d discovered along the town square upon her arrival in Avonlea all those years ago had intrigued her endlessly for many reasons.

The name being an obvious factor, (didn’t Red Bird Coffee House have such a wonderful ring to it?), the quirky decorum of it, and it’s kindred atmosphere the employees administered to all of their guests. Being only fourteen and rather ostracized when she’d first arrived, she’d found solace in the place. A safe space where she’d gone to escape into books and drink coffee. Where she hadn’t felt so lonely and cooped up.

Of course it was different now a day’s. She had Diana and Ruby and Cole and the many many other classmates she’d finally fit in among. But still she loved Red Bird. Still, she tried to stop by at least once a weak to sit for a few hours and complete her work. Or to read. Or write. Or whatever it was her heart desired.

Nonetheless, Anne had been sat there for quite some time. It was nearing 5pm and the sun had moved lower in the sky, causing the shadow from the tree to angle away from her and leave her in the heat. She’d finished her coffee about a half an hour before. And she was stuck on one particularly _difficult_ calculus problem. The last one of the assignment, in fact.

Admittedly, she was never particularly fond of mathematics. She understood it well enough to maintain being in all advanced classes... but she still struggled to to keep up with Gil- her _annoying_ top of the class counterpart.

Anne was sure she had erased the same spot in her notebook so many times that she was about to ware a hole in the paper. She was becoming highly agitated with herself. And with the situation at hand. She felt hot and sticky in the heat. The wind kept blowing the pages of her calculus textbook. And she just wanted to complete the last _goddamned_ problem.

“The answer is five.”

Anne’s lips thinned and her grip tightened on her pencil. She knew that voice. Absolutely hated the owner of that voice.

She jerked around to face Gilbert Blythe. He stood just outside the entrance, only a few paces away from her table, and was smuggly sipping at a small coffee. His dark tousled curls shown brightly against the sun behind him as his lithe frame slinked lazily toward her.

 _Goddamn it all,_ Anne swore to herself. She’d already had to deal with him enough that day. And after the disaster that had been the Barry’s dinner and dealing with Royal Gardner... she was far too fed up with the male species to have to speak with him again.

As Gilbert sidled up next to where Anne sat in her iron chair, he did a once over of her. It set her skin aflame with both embarrassment and fury. She scowled viciously at him. But it only caused for a smile to pull at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m kidding. I couldn’t see what you were working on from over there.” He set his coffee down on the table and leaned both hands on it, allowing for him to peer over at Anne’s work. She straightened in her chair, disliking the way he towered over her in that position.

“Need some help?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet her own. When she realized how close they were, she scraped her chair backward. Crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

“Like I’d ever need help from you,” she said finally, not caring a stitch that her tone was laced with disdain.

Gilbert wasn’t fazed. He merely lifted a hand from the table and placed it on his chest. A fake wounded look on his face.

“You hurt me Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

“Good,” she snapped. And then snatched her notebook from the table.

When Gilbert didn’t move from his spot, she eyed him angrily. “Can I help you? Or do you have to insist on being an impossible thorn in my side.”

The boy’s smile widened, allowing small dimples to appear on either side of his mouth. The very dimples Anne _cursed_. It wasn’t fair that he could be so handsome yet so infuriating at the same time.

Though she supposed the pair went hand in hand far more often than not.

“What’s a rose without it’s thorns?” Gilbert said, eyeing Anne in a way that put her on edge, “needs some sort of defense against those who are drawn to its beauty.”

She bared her teeth at him, fire rising to the surface of her skin, “if you’re suggesting I’m _drawn_ to you Gilbert Blythe, you- _shit!”_

She hopped up frantically from her chair, positioning Gilbert to stand directly in front of her. His lengthy frame made no difficulty in covering her up. Hiding her from the last person she’d wanted to run into.

Royal Gardner. He was sauntering up the sidewalk toward Red Bird. Hands stuffed lazily in his pockets and head held high. As if the world owed him everything.

She _so_ did not want to talk to him again. Not after the fiasco from the night before. Not after he’d blatantly ignored her disinterest and forced her to spew a lie.

“I... shit?” Gilbert had stiffened, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

It was then that Anne realized she had her hands on his upper arms, having frantically pushed him in front of her in an attempt to hide herself.

She dropped them immediately, avoiding eye contact but still standing so that he blocked Roy’s view of her, “Sorry,” she muttered.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, a single dark brow raising on his forehead. When she hesitantly glanced over his shoulder to see if Roy was still walking toward them, his eyes widened in realization. “Are you _hiding_ from somebody?”

Anne smacked his shoulder when he turned to try and see who it was.

“ _Don’t,”_ she hissed.

When Gilbert laughed quietly, Anne sneered at him.

The irony of the situation was most definitely not lost upon her. She _did_ realize she was hiding from one boy she hated with the help of another boy she hated. But she was desperate.

She peeked over Gilbert’s shoulder again, ignoring his exasperated sigh. But before she could duck back behind him without Roy noticing her, his eyes latched onto hers. And even from the little distance that separated them still, she saw him stand up straighter.

Anne swore loudly, panic blossoming in her chest.

“What happened?” Gilbert asked. He was still standing so that he could block her. And despite her unabashed hatred for him, she appreciated it.

Her gaze locked on his hazel eyes. Mind working a million miles a minute. How likely would it be for Royal to chase after her if she grabbed her stuff and tore off in the opposite direction? He was an insistent guy... but maybe he’d be too worried about the state of his shoes to-

“Anne?” she heard his lilting voice call out.

_Too late too late too late._

Then an idea came into her mind. An incredibly, ridiculously stupid idea. But at that point she was shit out of luck. And it was better than having to face the overbearing prince charming himself.

Royal didn’t know Gilbert. He didn’t know the extent at which she hated his guts. He was the perfect scapegoat.

And the lesser of two evils.

She flicked her eyes back at the advancing figure, swallowed, and said in a voice low enough for only Gilbert to hear, “Kiss me.”

He coughed as if something had stuck in his throat, “Come again?”

Her eyes trained back on his. They were widened slightly, brows raised high on his forehead.

“You heard me, asshole,” she hissed at him. It wasn’t as if she really _wanted_ to kiss him. She had no other option.

“Anne if you’re trying to come onto me, you’re doing it rather poorly.”

She was certain her face was completely red at that point. “Shut up!”

“Wow, whoever that is must have really-“ she’d run out of patience. With Royal only a few steps away, it was now or never. So she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him toward her.

The first thing she realized when his lips slanted against hers was that they were incredibly soft. The second thing she realized was that he hadn’t even hesitated a second before he was kissing her back.

Gilbert. Gilbert Blythe. Her sworn enemy of three and a half years was _kissing her back._ And she kind of liked it.

As soon as the last thought entered her mind, she pulled herself away from him and released the grip on his shirt. Their eyes met immediately. His pupils were blown wide, obvious shock etched across every feature.

She took a giant step backward, nearly tripping on the chair she had previously occupied. Ignoring the wild beating of her heart, she glanced over in Royal’s direction. He’d stopped abruptly only a few feet away.

_It worked._

Her eyes flit back over to Gilbert then, and she saw that the shock had cooled from his features. The side of his mouth curled up, and he was watching her curiously.

The realization of the situation dawned on her and she shot him a scowl, insuring he knew this changed nothing between them.

“Thanks,” she said to him as she scrambled to gather her things. Though she’d meant for it to come out much fiercer than it actually had.

When her book was in her arms and her bag slung over her shoulder, she turned from him. And hastily began walking in the opposite direction.

 _Please Matthew_ , she thought, _for the love of god hurry_.

\+ + +

 **Diana** (6:06 pm): _i just heard something_

 **Diana** (6:06 pm): _but there’s no fricken way its true_

**Cole** (6:32 pm): _BITCH TELL ME WHY JOSIE JUST TEXTED ME AND SAID SHE SAW YOU KISS GILBERT BLYTHE_

 **Cole** (6:34 pm): _i s2g if you don’t reply to me at this VERY moment i will drive my happy ass over to green gables and fight the answer out of you_

 **Anne** (6:35 pm): fuck

 **Cole** (6:35 pm): _THATS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY_

**Ruby** (6:40 pm): _ANNE_

 **Ruby** (6:40 pm): _ANE_

 **Ruby** (6:40 pm): _ANNESHSDF_

 **Ruby** (6:41 pm): _ANNNNEEEEE_

**Jerry** (6:45 pm): _word on the street is that u were seen smoochin a certain someone_

 **Anne** (6:49 pm): not you too

 **Anne** (6:49 pm): also who tf says “smoochin”

**Diana** (6:59 pm): _ik you are not just ignoring my texts_

 **Anne** (7:00 pm): calling you rn


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of love I got from the first chapter is crazy. Thank you all so much for leaving your comments, I appreciate your feed back so fricken much!! 
> 
> Here's the next update, enjoy. xx

By the time Gilbert Blythe had begun to walk the cobbled pathway that lead up to his home, the sun had begun to creep its way below the horizon. The evening country sky was awash with beautiful hues of reds and oranges. Burnt bright and fiery.

It reminded him of Anne.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. The girl with constellations on her skin and cosmos in her stormy gray eyes. The girl who kissed him and left his mind to spin on its axis. The girl who hated him.

He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, making a poor attempt at banishing the swirling mess of thoughts in his mind.

Anne despised him. Anne despised him and she’d _kissed_ him.

The same phrase had been endlessly looping through his subconsciousness for the better part of an hour now. For all the years he’d known her - for all the times they’d bickered and bantered and fought - never even in his wildest imaginations had he thought he would feel the weight of her lips against his.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was something of an absolute mystery to him. And it never ceased to amaze him just how frequently he felt caught off-guard around her.

He never returned Anne’s ill affections. Never hated her. Never wished anything of poor luck upon her life (he knew she’d already been through far too much), but sometimes the words that came out of her mouth felt like a knife being held to his throat. Like- if he made any sudden movements the sharpness of her words would tear into him.

And, god help him, it always thrilled him to no end. To be on the receiving end of her cunning wit and look her in the eye felt much like looming over the edge of a very high cliff. Except, instead of enormous crashing waves or deadly spikes being on the opposing side, it was the ever so intriguing face of one fiery red head.

He absolutely delighted in having the ability to rile her up. To push her buttons. To cause her skin to flush angrily and shoulders to tense and pretty face to squash into a scowl. She probably found herself to be intimidating. And she was to a certain extent... but mostly Gilbert only found the whole thing rather adorable.

To put it plainly: where her rivalry with him was based on hatred, his was based on pure amusement and intrigue. And he was always ready to take whatever punches she threw his way.

Until a few hours before. When oddly enough, he had most certainly not been prepared for her attack. An attack that wasn’t an attack on his character or intelligence, but on his consciousness. On where he thought a line was between them. On everything he thought was capable of taking place.

Because while he didn’t hate Anne, he was never stupid enough to believe that they were friends. He was attracted to her, yes, how couldn’t he be? She was intelligent. Passionate. Beautiful in a way that he could really only describe as being... out of the ordinary. Not in a bad way, but in a way that was quiet. In a way that it was obvious she couldn’t tell exactly how many heads she turned. But she had a fire in her soul that roared against him. A vicious tongue that, at times, could be downright degrading. And a wall towered between the two of them because of it.

So why, after she’d used that exact tongue for something he would have never expected from her, did he have the incredibly disorienting and unexplainable urge to run after her and do it again. Kiss her again. Procure the same tilt-a-whirl feeling in his head that the heat of her lips moving against his had caused.

A feeling that he hadn’t even felt with Win-

He tamped those thoughts off right at the start, giving his head a fierce shake. That was a train of thought better left unridden.

 _Damn it all_ , how could one moment in time leave his mind reeling with such a mighty force that he felt like he couldn’t make sense of anything?

“Blythe,” an accented voiced reached out from only a few paces away, and it was in that moment that Gilbert had realized he’d stopped completely. Staring blankly at his front door for the last few minutes, wrapped entirely in his own thoughts. “Blythe you moke, is that you?”

Sebastian Lacroix, Gilbert’s roommate (brother really), stood on the wooden porch of their house. Looking at the boy with a bemused expression and shaking his head slowly.

Gilbert had burrowed himself so far into his own head that he hadn’t seen the rusted old truck sitting in the driveway as he pulled in behind it.

“Hey Bash,” Gilbert returned drily as he forced his feet to move. He climbed the creaky old steps of the porch and skirted around the older man.

Bash followed behind him as he passed through the door and into the cozy atmosphere of the small living room. Gilbert removed his shoulder bag and tossed it onto the fluffy couch as he heaved a sigh.

“I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. Wanted to see if I should order some pizza for dinner,” said Bash as he clapped a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder.

The boy reached into the back pocket of his jeans and was unsurprised to find that his phone was dead. He held the dark screen up to show Bash just as much.

“You really need to start bringin’ a charger with you if you’re gonna be gone studying long enough to drain the life from your phone,” scolded Bash.

Gilbert merely rolled his eyes, “You got it, Dad.” But as soon as the joke left his mouth, he winced.

The relationship between Gilbert and Sebastian was... complicated... to say the least.

They were family, there was no denying that, but the way they came together as roommates - as _brothers_ \- was a rather tedious story.

In the simplest of renderings, it went like this: Sebastian Lacroix had been in Gilbert’s life for as long as he could remember. A constant companion and person to lean on.

At age seven, (eleven years prior) a round faced Gilbert had been told by a young social work intern that his father was dying. It hadn’t been his job, he was merely shadowing the case worker assigned to John Blythe (he’d been sick for a long while with no family able to look after him and his young son) but when it was revealed that John was far sicker than anybody originally thought, no-one had wanted to be the one to tell a child he was going to lose his father. The young man’s heart had hurt for the boy, but had the feeling that he was capable of taking a great deal. That he knew more than what he should have for his young years.

That intern had been Bash.

Sebastian always said that the reason he’d decided to take Gilbert under his wing so fiercely was because of pity. Because he’d felt bad for the scrawny little runt who’d just had the world ripped from beneath his feet. But Gilbert knew the truth. He always had.

Only eighteen at the time, Sebastian had been just as lonely as Gilbert had felt. Young, shunned from his home in Trinidad, and lost in a new country, he’d been in just as vulnerable a position. Just as in need of a friend.

So they’d bonded. Gilbert becoming like a shadow at Sebastian’s side.

When seven years later, Gilbert had held his father’s hand as he passed and he’d been officially dubbed an orphan, Bash was there. Holding his other hand as if to tether him to his spot. To earth. An acknowledgment that, even though Gilbert had lost his last blood relative, he was not without family.

And since that moment, Bash had done everything in his power to prove just as much.

Despite the fact that he was mature well beyond his years even at that age, had Bash not come along with the license to be a foster guardian, Gilbert would have been immediately placed with a random family. He’d had no other extended relatives. Nowhere else to go.

So Sebastian had stepped up. Signed on to be his legal guardian. Acted as an older brother. And then, when Gilbert had finally turned eighteen over the past summer and been freed from the system, as an equal partner.

Though the shades of their skin and chapters of their lives varied, they were brothers. Just as close as blood. If not made closer by the things life had thrown at them.

“So... pizza?” Bash said, interrupting his thoughts once more.

“Uh- yeah. Go ahead.”

Gilbert made his way over to the computer desk along the wall and plugged his phone into the charger. He held it in his hand as he waited for it to light up.

“What’s got you all in your head?” asked Bash as he padded over, feet bare against the carpeted floor. His phone was poised in his hand. Prepared to make the call to the pizza place, “Is it Winnie?”

Gilbert’s lips thinned. The sound of his ex’s name still made him feel tender. Vulnerable.

“Nope.”

“So she’s stopped pestering you then?” Bash raised a thick dark brow, forehead crinkling.

The younger man barked a lifeless laugh, “I wish,” then he lifted his hand and waved his brother off, “it doesn’t matter. Call for the pizza, I’m starved.”

Bash shrugged, “Whatever you say, Blythe.”

Winifred Rose, to put it lightly, had broken Gilbert’s heart.

They’d cut things off only a few weeks ago, right before school had started again. It had been a long time coming, her being in the grade above him and all. She’d graduated the previous year and had planned on going to nursing school in the next town over.

At first she’d been adamant on still wanting to be with Gilbert. Promising that being in college wouldn’t change how she felt about him. And it was fine for a bit. Great even. Couples dated while one was in college all the time. But the closer they’d gotten to the fall semester starting... the further she’d been pulling from him.

And one accidental uncovered text message later, he’d found out exactly why that had been the case. She’d been fooling around with a college sophomore.

Suffice to say he’d cut that shit off right then and there. And she hadn’t stop pestering about a second chance with him since.

At least he no longer had to see her at Dr. Wards office. She’d been interning with the family physician alongside him, but the nursing program for her college courses had been far too demanding to stay on.

The moment his phone blinked to life in his clutch, it began buzzing like crazy. A lump gathered in his throat as his eyes skimmed the various messages and twitter notifications.

Gossip certainly spread fast in Avonlea.

**Moody** (7:05 pm): _dude_

 **Moody** (7:05 pm): _did i just hear that you and anne kissed outside of red bird_

 **Moody** (7:06 pm): _holy SHIT_

**Winnie** (6:32 pm): _you can’t ignore me forever gilbert... will you please just talk to me?_

 **Winnie** (7:09 pm): _why am i seeing that you kissed another girl all over your twitter mentions_

His jaw clenched. Maybe he’d undersold just how desperate Winifred was being... She’d texted him every day without fail. Making excuse after excuse as to why she’d done what she had. That it didn’t change how she felt about him. That she loved him.

It had only pushed him further away.

After sending a quick and elusive reply to his classmate and friend Moody Spurgeon, he clicked open the thread of messages from Winnie. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

It had been weeks since he’d replied to her. Was he really going to risk interaction just because of a petty accusation? She certainly didn’t deserve any sort of explanation from him. Especially not about being seen kissing another girl. Not after what he’d found in her phone.

But maybe... a small part of him was still hurt enough to rub the kiss in her face. To subject _her_ to the pain he’d gone through. Did that make him a bad guy? Did he care?

He dropped the phone onto the desk and raked a frustrated hand through his mess of curls. He did care. And he knew it wouldn’t be right.

Sometimes he really did hate having a self-conscience. Sometimes... he wished just once in his life he could be sporadic. Free. Make decisions without mulling over them endlessly beforehand.

Kiss somebody without warrant.

He groaned inwardly as he made his way over to the couch and flopped down face first into the mess of plush pillows. His arm dangled off the side and feet over the armrest.

And there he was. Back to square one. Thinking of Anne and how she’d left him there. Breathless and confused and covering it all up with a smirk. Having to confront the boy behind him that she’d left staring.

It had been ridiculously comical when he’d turned to see who it was she was hiding from. He vaguely recognized him from the hallways of Avonlea High, though he’d only begun seeing him around fairly recently. And by the jealousy that had been written all over his face, he obviously hadn’t been around enough to know that Anne and Gilbert would be the very last two people to ever expect kissing each other.

Whatever that boy had done to cause - no force - Anne to kiss Gilbert... Well, it had to be bad. He hadn’t even minded that she’d used him as a way to avoid the boy. Figured it was definitely for good reason. So when he’d opened his mouth to make a remark, Gilbert had merely gave him a thin lipped smile and a nod of his head. Brushing past him and maybe hitting him with his shoulder a little harder than necessary as he did so.

A ding sounded from where his phone lay on the desk, signifying yet another incoming message. At the very same moment, the sound of Bash’s footsteps could be heard as he crossed through the kitchen door. Gilbert tensed momentarily, and then rushed to sit up.

But it was too late, Bash was leaning over and reading the message on the screen.

His eyebrows shot straight up as he glanced over to where Gilbert peered at him over the back of the couch. The smile on his face was one that surely meant trouble.

Gilbert jumped off of the couch and scrambled back over to the desk, not meeting Bash’s eyes as he snatched it out of his line of sight.

“I’m sorry, did I just read a message saying you were seen kissing somebody?”

Another incoming message chimed, and Gilbert’s hand clenched on the phone. This _damned_ town. You’d think they had nothing better to do than to go spouting every detail that seemed to be out of the ordinary for the entire world to hear.

Gilbert shook his head exasperatedly at Bash’s coy expression, “It’s none of your business.”

“Come on! Eleven years I’ve been in this blasted town and nothin’ interestin’ ever happens. Give your brother a break and tell him the gossip will ya?”

Gilbert released a small bout of surprised laughter, “Not a chance.”

Bash narrowed his eyes at him but turned away instead of questioning him further. As he walked back into the kitchen, he grumbled under his breath.

“Worked my ass off with crazy teenagers every day as a CPS worker just ta’ come back home and deal with another one and he ain’t even got the decency to share the town’s gossip. I swear...”

“I can hear you!” Gilbert called after him, shaking his head in amusion. Bash had a dramatic flare that rivaled that of Anne’s.

_Dear god stop thinking about her._

“Wasn’t tryna’ to be quiet!” Bash called back as he crossed through the kitchen and into the dining room, “And you’re answering the door when the pizza arrives. I paid for it!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

When he pulled his phone from behind his back to check the messages, the smile dropped from his mouth. One was a reply from Moody, but the other was from Winifred.

**Winnie** (7:42 pm): _is she your girlfriend?_

Before he could stop himself, he’d typed out an answer and hit send.

**Gilbert** (7:46 pm): _would it even make a difference_

Her response was immediate. And brought a frown to Gilbert’s face.

**Winnie** (7:46 pm): _is that what it takes for you to answer then?_

 **Winnie** (7:46 pm): _wait forget i said that. i’m glad you did._

 **Winnie** (7:46 pm): _and in answer to your question... yes. it would for me._

He hesitated a moment before replying again.

**Gilbert** (7:47 pm): _and what if i said that she is my girlfriend_

The typing bubble appeared. Stayed there for a few seconds.

**Winnie** (7:48 pm): _then i would respect that_

Gilbert dropped his phone down onto the desk in surprise. Three weeks. _Three weeks_ had she been messaging him nonstop. And this was all it took for her to take a step back?

He didn’t know if he wanted to release a cry of excitement and relief or if he wanted to curl into a ball in the face of the possibility of things actually being a hundred percent over with the girl he’d dated for a full year.

_She cheated on you. It doesn’t matter if it was just a fling or not, it still hurt._

His phone dinged again.

**Winnie** (7:51 pm): _so?_

 **Winnie** (7:52 pm): _is she your girlfriend or not gilbert. stop messing with me_

He hastily typed out his reply. But his eyes widened as his thumb hovered over the send button.

Oh, Anne would absolutely _murder_ him. An actual verbal massacre would take place in front of god and everybody.

But... s _he’d_ also been the one to kiss _him_. _She’d_ been the one to need an escape from another boy. This couldn’t be that big of a step up right? Maybe... maybe they could use _each other_. Team up to get the respective unwanted attention off of their backs.

Besides... Green Gables wasn’t too far from his house. Just a mile or so. He could always stop by in the morning before school, explain the situation, and then take the beating while fewer witnesses were around.

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t hold his own against her anyway. And what had he said about wanting to be more spontaneous?

With the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, his thumb made the final movement to hit send.

**Gilbert** (7:52 pm): _yes. she’s my girlfriend_

\+ + +

“Why, Gilbert Blythe! It’s been a long time. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

When the elder woman had opened the front door of her house to find Gilbert standing there, arms nervously crossed behind his back, the surprised smile that had broken across her face was radiant.

“Hello Miss Cuthbert,” Gilbert greeted politely. His hands were ringing themselves, fidgeting where he’d hidden them from her sight, “Sorry to intrude-“

“Oh nonsense, young man. It’s always a pleasure to see an old friendly face,” Marilla interrupted him, “Please. Come in. I have a fresh batch of plum puffs I made just last night.”

He made to interject- to say he only needed to be there a few moments so that he may speak with her daughter- but the older woman was far stronger than she looked. And she’d yanked him in and shut the door behind him before he knew it.

He ran a hand through his mess of curls awkwardly and shifted his weight from one foot the other.

“Miss Cuthbert,” he began as he watched her flit about the tiny area. She’d grabbed a plate from the kitchen and a pan of pastries from a bar just inside the dining room, her long shawl unraveling from around her shoulders in her haste, “I came here so that I might possibly speak with Anne before we head to school?”

Marilla paused in her escapade, glancing over at where Gilbert stood in the doorway, “Yes of course. I believe she’s still in her bedroom getting ready,” she pointed toward a hallway that was just through the dining room entryway and across the living room, “the very last door.”

Gilbert nodded politely, already beginning to move in the direction she’d pointed, “Thank you Miss Cuthbert. This should only take a moment. I’ll grab one of your plum puffs on my way out if that’s alright.”

“Yes yes, of course. And for heaven’s sake child. You’ve known Matthew and I nearly your entire life. Call me Marilla.”

He flashed her a charming smile just as he was about to disappear into the hallway leading to Anne’s bedroom, “Marilla,” he echoed.

When he reached Anne’s door, he hesitated. He could hear the faint sound of music playing from a phone speaker and her quiet voice happily humming along. And from the looks of how the shadow he could see through the crack in the door was swaying around, she was dancing.

A quiet smile graced his lips before he lightly rapped his knuckles against the worn wood.

The humming stopped and the music paused. When he heard her moving toward the door, he took a slight step backward, “I’m almost ready Marilla. I’ll be out for breakfast in just a-“

The moment the door was open and her gray eyes met his, she stopped abruptly. Mouth snapping shut and face turning the same fiery red as the hair on top of her head.

Her eyes promised his death.

Gilbert grinned at her, “What’s up, Carrots?”

The next thing he knew, her hand was on his arm and he was being jerked into her bedroom.

He found himself intrigued as he glanced around. It was a cute little area with a twin bed in the middle, a vanity along the side wall, and several pieces of art framed and hung all around. No doubt drawn by her friend Cole.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she seethed, pulling his roaming gaze away from the small space.

“You Cuthbert ladies sure have a thing for yanking people into rooms,” he replied cheekily, ignoring the acidic tone in the red-heads voice.

He studied her a moment. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and an angry flush coloring clear down into the neck of her pretty floral patterned dress. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, framing her freckled face.

She was as beautiful as always. As fierce as ever.

And her blue eyes blazed with the same hatred for him that he always knew he could find there.

In the face of it, he couldn’t help when his smile widened crookedly.

She took a deep breath. As if trying to calm herself, “Listen if you came here about what happened yesterday, I-“

“It’s not about that,” he cut her off, “Okay- well yeah. It is. But I highly doubt I’ll be saying anything you expect.”

A repulsed expression marred her pretty features, “I hope you don’t suddenly think I’m going to do it again.”

A small burst of laughter escaped from him, “Trust me. Neither of us want that.”

 _Liar liar_ , he thought. Gilbert hadn’t been able to get the feel of her soft lips out of his head from the moment it happened. But he hardly even wanted to admit that to himself let alone to her.

Her lips thinned. “What do you want?” she asked warily.

He leaned back casually against her closed bedroom door and stuffed his hands into his pockets, “Who was that boy you were hiding from yesterday?”

Her eyes narrowed, “Diana will be here in twenty minutes to pick me up and Marilla will have my head if I don’t eat breakfast with her and Matthew before I leave so if all you came here to do was interrogate me about-“

“Carrots relax.”

“Stop calling me that!” she snapped shrilly.

He pulled his hands from his pockets and held them up in defense. “Alright alright, I’m sorry,” he said, “There’s a point to me asking this. I promise.”

Anne released a huff. Crossed her arms and jutted her hip out to the side.

“Forgive me if I don’t take any of your promises to heart,” she retorted indignantly.

“Fair enough,” he replied, “But humor me. Please.”

At the last word, he’d looked up at her from his relaxed position on the door through his dark eyelashes. It was a move he knew worked on nearly every female in Avonlea. Except for Anne. The first time he’d tried it on her back when they’d met, he’d been awarded with a very hard textbook to the face. It was the first time it hadn’t worked. Hadn’t charmed the girl into a fit of embarrassed giggles or brought a pink flush to her cheeks.

He did it now adays just to see Anne’s scowl deepen. Apparently he’d grown a liking to flirting with death.

She rolled her eyes at him. Making a small noise of disgust that allowed for an amused smile to play on Gilbert’s lips.

“Fine. Whatever,” she started, “The guy was Royal Gardner. He’s Diana’s cousin. You probably noticed he just started at Avonlea High? He’s in the same grade as us and an absolute pain in my ass.”

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow, “I thought I was the only pain in your ass.”

“Don’t be vain. A lot of boys are pains in my ass.”

His lips twitched. “Is that so?” he asked before he could stop himself.

The punch she threw at his arm was very well deserved.

“You have a death wish Gilbert Blythe. I swear you do.”

Gilbert snorted. It was a bit of an understatement, if you asked him. He sort of felt like he’d traipsed right into a lion’s den.

He cleared his throat, “So if so many boys are already a pain in your ass... Why was this one a cause for you to kiss me?”

Anne looked down shyly. And if Gilbert hadn’t known any better, he might have said that the slight pink that colored her cheeks was from embarrassment and not anger.

It was gone in a flash though. She straightened. Head held high and stormy eyes meeting his in defiance.

“He’d asked me out the day before. Wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she glanced away from him, “I uh, had to tell him I was seeing somebody in order to get him to leave me alone. I wasn’t expecting to see him at Red Bird. And you were there... so I panicked. Seized the opportunity that had revealed itself.”

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully, fighting to hide the smirk that threatened his lips. So, this Royal guy thought he might be dating Anne? The situation was far more perfect than he’d originally thought.

“I was a pawn,” he replied casually.

Anne rolled her eyes at him. Probably for the millionth time in the span of the five minutes they’d been talking.

“You-“

He pushed on, “Do you remember Winnie?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “Your ex-girlfriend? What about her.”

Gilbert paused a moment, steeling himself. When the girl across from him placed a hand on her hip and raised an annoyed eyebrow, he released a breath.

“She maybe, sort of, thinks that we’re dating too. As well. Like- uh. Yeah.”

Anne swore quietly and looked down at her hands where they were fisted in the loose skirt of her dress.

“Why would she possibly think that?”

“Anne. You kissed me. In public. You know how this town is... I’m sure _everybody_ thinks we’re together now.”

She harrumphed at that, and Gilbert couldn’t help but find it a little bit adorable.

Her eyes met his again, “It’s 2019, a kiss does not insinuate dating.”

Gilbert took a single step closer to her and was relieved to find that she didn’t back up. “Did you miss the part where we live in a small town in rural Maine or...”

“That doesn’t mean-“

“What if we let them think it.”

A surprised laugh burst from Anne as soon as the words had left his mouth. But when she looked at him again and saw that he hadn’t been joking, the smile dropped from her face.

“Wait you’re being serious?” she asked.

Gilbert swallowed. Nodded.

She began to shake her head furiously, “No way. No _fucking_ way. I don’t even like you! You don’t like me!”

She stepped away from him and started to frantically tidy up the space around her as if to busy herself. She scrambled to her bed and grabbed the blankets there to fold across the mattress. She fluffed her pillow unnecessarily, causing Gilbert’s lip to twitch in a failing battle to stop his mouth from going up at one side

Anne’s voice was an octave higher than normal as she continued to rant and frantically clean. It was obvious that she was doing anything she could to avoid looking him in the eye or to exert whatever frustration and unease she felt at Gilbert’s suggestion.

He stepped forward, not even trying to hide the amusement that was sure to be written all across his face.

“Anne,” he said, “Anne calm down a second and listen to me, will you?”

She spun on her heal to face him, eyes bright with a mixture of panic and anger. Hands clutching viciously to the throw blanket in her grasp. 

“Do not tell me to calm down Gilbert Blythe,” she snapped at him. There it was, the knife to his throat, “You come here to- to suggest what? That we suddenly start dating? I can’t even- We never- I can barely stand to be around you, let alone-“

It was a good thing the knife had never intimidated him before. And it certainly wasn’t now.

“We wouldn’t really be dating, Anne.” He interrupted her with a laugh.

She blinked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He walked up to her slowly. Grabbed the blanket that dangled from her hands and then set it on her bed. Their bodies were inches apart and it was as if he could feel her there. Feel the heat radiating off of her.

He met her harsh gaze, “What if we just made everybody think we were dating. What if we made _Royal_ think we were dating.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and straightened her stance. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t take a step back like he would have expected her to.

“What’s in it for you?” she asked, voice laced with poison and skepticism.

He shrugged, “I’ve needed Winifred to get off my back for a while. Call it an even exchange.”

“Nobody will believe it. We’ve been at each other’s throats since we met.”

On the contrary, _she’d_ been at _his_ throat. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that they’d be perfect friends if only she’d let him in instead of wielding her words against him like a mighty sword.

He leaned in a fraction, relishing in the way he heard her breath catch in her throat, “They’ll believe what we make them believe.”

She bit her lip, eyes expressing clear contemplation in the swirling grays and blues of her irises. But then she stiffened, and the shutters slammed shut against him. She moved forward, pushing past and around. Causing him to stumble backward slightly despite her small frame.

He turned to find her paused in front of the doorway with her back to him, fists clenched at her sides and back stiff straight.

“No.” Her voice was flat.

He took a step toward her, “Anne-“

“I said _no_. It’s a stupid idea,” she placed her hand on the doorknob and twisted. Pulled it open and then stepped aside to make way for him to pass through. She looked over at the place where he stood, a solid resolve in her eyes. “I think you should leave. Diana will be here any minute and now I have to rush my breakfast.”

Gilbert deflated. He was disappointed, but he wouldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to. Still, he’d already told Winnie... Been so determined he’d be able to convince Anne to take part in his plan.

As he walked through her doorway and past her, he paused a moment. Leaned down slightly so that their faces were closer together.

“Just a few months. We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again,” he said quietly. He could see his breath move the auburn locks against her face. His eyes flit to lock with hers, “Think about it.”

When her lips thinned and she refused to respond, Gilbert gave a curt nod. Then walked down the hallway, out into the living room and back into the kitchen.

He quickly brandished a wide smile and farewell to Marilla as he grabbed one of her pastries and left through the door. All the while knowing Anne watched through the window as he climbed into his car and backed out of the Cuthbert’s long driveway.

A smile curved at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Will Anne make a decision?
> 
> Again, please don't be afraid to tell me what you think in the comments. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Up next? Gilbert comes up with a plan. 
> 
> please be sure to leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed! makes for faster updates ;) thanks for reading!!


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